Dear Friend,
How are you still here
when anyone else would have run away?
How did you stay,
wading through the tears,
and misery,
self-pity, and
self-blame?
Where did you get those strong arms
that held me up
when I had no legs?
That held me still,
when I shook with fear?
Where did you get those eyes
that saw my beauty
through the film
of imperfection that I call
skin?
And how did you grow that heart,
where I live?
And who would I be,
if you were gone?
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Sandra
About the Creator
Sandra Matos
I write so that people will remember me. I make art for the same reason. I had a mother that I never knew. Who she was, how she smelled, or what she valued. I don't want anyone to wonder who I was.
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More stories from Sandra Matos and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Whiskered War
A domestic drama; rather, you're witnessing a millennium-old conflict over the fate of the entire planet (and possibly just a smA titanic struggle between wits and strength has been raging in the shadows for millennia: The Great Nibble vs. The Purrsecution. The cats, the furry fighters, the fascists of the feline world, occupy one corner. In the other, mice make up the squeaky squad, the small militia. The reward? Domination over the entire world (and possibly an especially tasty cheese wheel).
By Richard Weber3 days ago in Humor
Comments (2)
Lovely supportive words
This is so beautiful and emotional! 😭❤️